I'd Lie
by authorinprogress97
Summary: "Ugh, you suck," I told him. "Love you too," he chuckled. I wish. Greg/OC


_**A little songfic that came to me in the shower. Yeah, I know. Weird. Well, I've been itching to write a Greg/OC anyways, so, here you go! Enjoy!**_

_**Okay, I know Greg is an only child, but for the purpose of this fic and this fic only, he has a sister.**_

_**Disclaimer: CSI, huh? Hmmm… Nope, don't own it. Delia, Maria and Josie are mine though.**_

_**-8-8-8-8-8-**_

I honestly never thought it would happen to me. It was too… _cliché_.

Yet, I, Delia Artemis Grace, am in love with my best friend, Greg Sanders.

Oh, the irony.

I heard my phone ring, causing me to look at it. I picked it up from my nightstand and smiled, looking at the name on the screen.

"Hey, Greg," I answered, flipping open my phone.

"_Hey yourself,_" I heard him answer. I can almost picture the grin on his face. "_I'm bored, you're on call and it's my day off. What do you say to hanging out?_"

I grinned. "That'd be awesome. Come by my place in twenty minutes."

"_See you,_" he replied and hung up.

I lay on my bed for a moment, grinning like a maniac before bounding out of bed and getting ready. It's a little pathetic that I'm so excited to a day of hanging out, but I can't help it.

I'm in love with him.

Pulling on my favorite Paramore t-shirt and my cleanest pair of jeans, I brushed my auburn hair and tied it in a ponytail. Going to the mirror, I applied some cherry lip gloss and took my wallet, putting it in my back pocket.

Looking into the mirror, I sighed. I was looking a little pale, but then again, I've always been pale. I traced the bags under my dark blue eyes, the result of late nights and overtime in the lab. What can I say? I need the money.

Hearing someone honk their horn, I look out my window and spot Greg's car in the lot. It's a silver Camaro and is in a much better shape than my beat up 1993 Honda accord, but I love it. I've had that car since I was seventeen. Heck, my dad and I fixed it up together. It may look like crap, but it runs like a dream. Most of the time.

_**I don't think that passenger seat  
>Has ever looked this good to me<strong>_

Locking up my apartment, I open up the passenger door and slide in.

Taking a deep breath, I don't think I've ever wanted to be in this car so much before.

"Hey," he greeted me.

"Hey," I greet back.

_**He tells me about his night**_

"You'll never believe what happened last night," he started excitedly.

"Oooh! You finally managed to get yourself out of bed and dressed so you could get to work on time?" I said, and then frowned dramatically. "Oh wait, you were late yesterday. Again."

"Ha ha," he replied sarcastically. "No. What _really_ happened was…"

_**And I count the colors in his eyes**_

As he drove, he told me what happened. I listen to him half-heartedly. My focus was on his eyes.

_I wonder if he notices he has hints of gold and amber in his eyes,_ I thought distractedly.

The evening sun gave his normally brown eyes and golden and amber tinge, with hints of hazel near his pupils.

I sigh quietly. I'm so in love with him, but he'll never feel the same way.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**He'll never fall in love he swears  
>As he runs his fingers through his hair<br>I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong**_

"I swear, I'll never fall in love," he swore, running his fingers through his brown hair as we talk about our two co-workers, Nick Stokes and Josie Pacelli.

It's blatantly obvious that they're in love with each other, but they _still_ haven't cleaned their act up. I swear, whenever I'm in the same room as the two of them, the sexual tension between them is enough to make _me_ feel frustrated.

"You don't know that," I said, laughing. He has no idea how much I'm wishing he's wrong.

"It's true," he protested. "You've seen how Nick acts around her. I don't ever want to act that way."

"Well, _I_ think it's sort of cute," I replied, looking at the computer screen in front of me. I hear his chair creak as he turns his chair toward me.

"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered. I pictured him rolling his eyes.

"Get back to work Greg."

_**And I don't think it ever crossed his mind  
>He tells a joke I fake a smile<br>That I know all his favorite songs**_

"Yes ma'am," he said, saluting me sarcastically.

We worked quietly for a moment. The only sounds that were heard were the sounds of the machines whirring and our keyboards tapping.

It's too quiet. Well, it's not exactly _that_ quiet, but it's still quieter than usual. I put a CD into the CD player we keep in the lab and press play.

AC/DC starts playing through the speakers and I wheel myself back to my computer.

Greg grinned at me. "I knew I could count on you to play my favorite songs, Dee."

I forced a smile, sighing quietly under my breath.

He'll never feel the same way. He likes Sara. He;ll never know how I really feel about him. It's for the best.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**And I could tell you his favorite colour's green**_

"Hey, Delia," Catherine greeted me. I look up from the paperwork I was filing. Yes, lab rats have to do _some_ paperwork too.

"Hi," I greet back.

"I heard Greg's birthday is coming up soon," she said casually, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Have you gotten him anything yet?"

"Yup," I replied, popping the P. "I got him a green coffee mug with the words 'lab rat and proud' on it. It took me forever to find it."

"Why green?"

I smiled at her, finishing up my paperwork and standing to leave. "It's his favorite colour."

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth**_

"You stink," Greg told me the moment I walked into the locker room. I scowled at him.

"It's not my fault we had a decomp," I repled, scrunching my nose.

"It's awesome being a field mouse, isn't it?" he laughed. Bastard. My heart still beat faster when I heard his laugh though.

"It isn't when I have to help Dave move a decomposed body because nobody else could stomach it."

"And you could?"

"No, but I felt bad for him."

"Aw… somebody's a little sweet on our assistant coroner," he sang. I roll my eyes. He could be so childish. Yet, I'm in love with him. Stupid heart.

"I am not."

"You are!"

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Too."

"Not."

"Too."

"You just love arguing, don't you?" I asked, getting out some lemons that I kept in my locker, just in case.

"You know it, I know it, everyone knows it," he replied, shooting me a grin.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied. I tossed him his birthday present, seeing him catch it. "Happy birthday."

He looked at me quizzically. "Huh?"

"It's the seventeenth, Greggo. Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday."

He turned away, clearing his throat. I could see his cheeks darkening a little. I laughed. "Oh my god, you did!"

"Yes, well, I've been busy," he defended, crossing his arms.

"Sure, sure," I chuckled. I looked him in the eye, smiling. "Happy birthday Greg."

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes**_

I remember when I met his family. It wasn't under the best of circumstances. Well, meeting anyone at a hospital is never really under the best of circumstances.

Greg had just gotten beaten up, badly. Frankly, I was a little worried that he wouldn't make it.

As I made my way to his hospital room, I literally ran into a pretty brunette, who turned out to be his sister. She was beautiful, with her hazel eyes and wavy brown hair that stopped to the middle of her back.

She was nice too. A lot nicer than I would've been if someone had just bowled me down in the middle of a hallway. Then again, she's not me.

Well, a short introduction later and his sister, Maria, was pulling me along to meet the rest of the Sanders.

The one thing I noticed when I met his family was that Greg had his father's eyes. They had the same warm chocolate brown that could change shades depending on the light.

I knew I had fallen hard when I noticed that.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie**_

"Do you like Greg?"

My head jerked out of my locker. I found myself face to face with Josie. I try to fight down the nervousness that welled up in my belly.

"Well, obviously," I replied, purposely misunderstanding the question. "He wouldn't be my best friend if I didn't."

Josie rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb with me, Delia. We both know what I'm trying to say."

"Well, do you like Nick?" I shot back. I knew I wasn't playing fair, but when you're cornered, you tend to lash out.

Her face hardened. "This isn't about me. It's about you."

"No," I told her forcefully. "I don't."

Looking her in the eyes, I'm kind of alarmed how easily the lie came out of my mouth. I'm also alarmed at how I couldn't even tell that lie to make it believable.

I could tell she didn't believe me, but she nodded anyway. She was going to let it slide. For now.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**He looks around the room  
>Innocently overlooks the truth<strong>_

Looking down at the case file, I sighed. It was weird, not being a lab tech anymore, but it was exhilarating to be out in the field. I didn't go through the Police Academy to spend the rest of my days in a lab running tests.

Still, it wasn't easy. Looking up from my case file, I glanced over at Greg, who was sprawled on the couch, looking like he was ready to fall asleep. He looked up from his paperwork, looking around the room, and I immediately looked back down into my case file.

Peeking out from under my eyelashes, I looked at him. He didn't seem to have noticed my staring.

_**Shouldn't a light go on?  
>Doesn't he know I've had him memorized for so long?<strong>_

Puffing a breath out, I couldn't help but think that something should have clicked in his mind. Is he really that oblivious or am I just that good at hiding it?

Looking down at my case file, I found myself unable to concentrate and studying Greg again. He was biting down on the edge of his pencil, something he only did when he was bored and on the verge of frustration. His eyes flicked away from his paperwork, glancing at the coffee machine. Oh boy. His caffeine addiction was back.

I snort to myself. Only I would notice all that. God, I've had him practically memorized.

_**He sees everything black and white**_

"Hey guys," Sara Sidle, greeted, heading straight for the coffee machine.

Greg instantly lit up and I suppressed a groan. I'd say I forgot about Greg's crush on Sara, but that would be a blatant lie.

"Hey, Sara," we greeted her back.

All he'll ever see me as is a friend. All he'll ever see Sara as is a crush. I swear, there is no grey with that boy.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**Never let nobody see him cry**_

I found him in the morgue, like I knew I would.

He was looking at the body again. She was a Jane Doe and was brutally murdered. Her stomach was cut open and her intestines were stuffed in her mouth. It was a cruel and unusual death. It was also the fifth body we had found like that in the past three months.

"Hey, you," I called softly. He turned towards me, wiping away his tears. He never did like anybody see him cry. Not even me.

"Hey," he replied hoarsely, looking at the body one last time before covering her up.

I didn't say anything. I just walked up to him and pulled him towards me, embracing him. We stood there for a few moments, saying nothing.

"I wish I could've done something, Dee," he whispered into my hair. I hugged him tighter.

"I know Greg. I know."

_**I don't let nobody see me wishing he was mine**_

I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his scent. It was musky, with a hint of that coffee that he loved to drink so much.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt a single tear slip out from under my eyelids.

No matter how much I wished he was mine, he never would be. I would never let anybody see how much I wanted him to be mine.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**I could tell you his favorite colour's green**_  
><em><strong>He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth<strong>_

"Having fun in there?" Greg called out. I scowled at him, not that he could see.

"How did _I_ end up in the dumpster and _you_ got to stay out there?" I asked, scowling and grumbling under my breath.

"Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you were the only one who would fit in?" he said innocently.

"Ugh, you suck," I told him, passing another body part to him after photographing it.

"Love you too," he chuckled. I sighed quietly. I wish.

Keeping my scowl on my face, I stuck my tongue out at him and tossed a dismembered finger at him.

"Hey!" he yelled out. "Watch the face!"

"Aw…" I pouted. "It didn't whack you in the face."

He scowled at me. "Have a little respect for the dead."

"I will when you stop arguing with me while I'm looking for a dismembered dead body in a dumpster."

"You and I both know that's a lost cause."

"Then you'd better be ready to catch," I said mischievously before throwing a foot at him.

I couldn't help but laugh as he yelled out in surprise, the foot very close to hitting his face.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes  
>And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie<strong>_

"I can't believe you managed to pull this off," I told Maria as I took another sip of my drink.

She smiled. "Well, all I needed was you to get him here and everything just happened."

Putting her beer down, Maria took a deep breath and put her beer down on the table, turning towards me.

"Delia, I have to ask you something," she said, looking straight at me.

Taking a sip, I said, "Shoot."

"Do you like Greg?"

I almost choked on my drink. I put my drink down, hoping I looked casual.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just… asking. Well, do you?" she repeated, crossing her arms.

"No. Well, obviously I do, but I don't like him like that," I reply forcefully. It kinda scares me how I can't tell anybody about my… well, I'd call it a crush, but that seems to tame. It scares me that I might be getting a little better at lying about it.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

"Hey, Dee," he greeted me. I looked up from the clothes I was processing and smiled at him before continuing my work.

"How's your case going?" he asked. I looked up at him, giving him a strange look before looking back at the clothes.

"It's going… fine. How's yours?" I replied.

"It's… fine."

I sighed and put down the shirt I was holding and the magnifying glass, turning toward him. "What is it, Greg?"

"It's just… Well, I… It's just that – "

"Spit it out, Sanders," I said, leaning against the light table and laughing a little.

He took a deep breath. "I've got a question." He paused. I waited for him to continue.

"And?" I said when he didn't continue. My heart started beating faster. He couldn't be asking – can he? Whoa, breathe Dee, breathe. Don't get your hopes up for nothing, girl.

"Do you think she'd go out with me?" he asked, fidgeting a little.

I turned around, following his gaze. I spotted Sara in the break room. I slumped slightly, crossing my arms and leaning against the light table. _I knew it must have had something to do with Sara_, I thought viciously. I wasn't angry at Greg. I wasn't even angry at Sara. I was angry at myself for thinking he could _possibly_ feel the same way I do.

I tilted my head to one side slightly, thinking. _Would_ Sara go out with Greg?

"Possibly," I finally answer. Possibly was the safest answer I could think of. It wouldn't guarantee that she would say yes, but I wasn't saying that she would completely shoot him down.

He nodded a little, leaning against the wall. I turned around, going back to my work, sighing a little.

I looked up from the evidence and into the break room, seeing Archie Johnson standing where Sara had been not too long ago.

"Do you think he'd go out with me?" I asked nobody in particular, not really expecting an answer.

"Definitely," he answered. I looked over at him, trying to detect any sarcasm in his voice or on his face, but only found sincerity. Tilting my head to one side again, I studied Greg for another moment before turning back to the evidence.

I wasn't talking about Archie.

_**He stands there then walks away**_

I heard him stand there for another moment before leaving the room.

I looked out the door, seeing him watch away sadly.

_**My God, if I could only say  
>I'm holding every breath for you<strong>_

I suppose if this was a movie, this would be the part where I go up to him, tell him I love him and he would tell me he loved me too.

Well, this isn't a movie and I'm not that brave.

He likes Sara, not me. I can't compete against her. She has smooth brown shoulder-length hair and sparkly brown eyes. My auburn hair is unmanageable on a good day and I have to hide it under a baseball cap on a bad one. My dark blue eyes are sorta dull.

Like I said, I can't compete against her.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**He'd never tell you but he can play guitar**_

"I'm bored," I whined.

"Go do something, then," Greg replied, rearranging his gummy bears. Yes, I said gummy bears. The two of us were stuck at the crime lab, waiting to be called out on scenes of our own. He was amusing himself by rearranging gummy bears while I was lying down on the floor on my back, doing nothing.

I'd sleep, but then it'd be almost impossible for me to wake up.

"Like?" I asked, turning around and putting my chin on my arms.

"I don't know. Something."

Watching him rearrange the gummy bears in a pyramid, I got an idea.

Standing up, I headed to my locker, taking out the guitar I brought to work sometimes. Bringing it to the break room, where we were haunting, I sat down next to Greg and held out my guitar to him.

"Play for me?" I asked him, seeing him eyeing the instrument.

"Dee, I dunno," he muttered. I gave him my famous puppy dog eyes.

"Please," I begged. "Come on, I taught you myself! If you can't play, you're a lost cause. I know you're not, so go on."

He eyed the guitar one more time before giving in, taking the guitar in his hands. I gave him a victory smile and lay back down on the floor, listening to him play the guitar.

Not many people knew he could play, but since I was the one who taught him, obviously I would. Frankly, it made me a little happy that I knew a secret about him that he didn't really tell others.

Times like this make me want to whack my head with my shoe at my ridiculousness.

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**I think he can see through everything but my heart**_

I looked down at my cell phone, blinking back tears that were threatening to escape. I sniffled slightly, leaning back in my chair. I put my cell phone on my desk as I was sitting in the office I shared with Nick and Greg. Nick was out at a scene, so I knew he wouldn't come in to interrupt me, but I wasn't sure where Greg was.

"Hey, Dee," he started, walking into our shared office, before getting a look at my face. "What's wrong?"

I hastily wiped my eyes, making sure that there were no tears before clearing my throat. "Nothing. I'm fine."

I saw him narrow his eyes at me from the corner of my eye. "Bullshit. What really happened, Delia?"

Uh oh. He never calls me Delia unless he's angry or frustrated at me. I pursed my lips before sighing. I never really could resist him, even before I realised I was in love with him.

"It's my mom," I whispered, keeping my eyes locked on my cell phone. "She-she called me…"

He tensed slightly. He knew my history with my mom.

My mom always made me feel unwanted. When I was little, she would repeatedly tell me that I was the child she never wanted and that dad left because of me. I have no idea why my dad left, but I can't help but thinking that he could have at least taken me with him.

She adored my older brother and sister, but hated me. No matter what I did, I couldn't please her. She was always sizing me up to my older siblings. She called me pathetic and useless and… well, other things that won't be mentioned. I grew up thinking those things were true, until I met Greg in eighth grade.

He was… well, I guess he wasn't really in a clique. He was smart, but not really all that nerdy. He was cool enough to be popular, but not overly so. He was in the middle.

Me, well… I guess you could say I was one of those unpopular kids that you would see around the cafeteria sitting alone at one table, reading a book or catching up on homework. I didn't have any friends, because most people found me too quiet and shy to be their friend. I was invisible.

I didn't really care. It was better being invisible than being bullied. I got enough of that at home. Most people didn't even know I existed until I was asked a question in class. Even then, people would forget me as soon as they stepped outside the classroom.

Imagine my surprise when our biology teacher paired me and Greg together for a school project.

_*flashback*_

_I doodled at the corner of my biology textbook. I looked up at the biology teacher, Mr Thomas. I'm not kidding. His last name really is Thomas. I don't know what his first name is though. Hey, wouldn't it be weird if his first name was Thomas too? Then he'd be like Thomas Thomas!_

_I snickered under my breath at that thought. I know, I'm a weird teenager._

"_Delia Grace…" I looked up when he called my name, wondering who my partner would be. I sighed slightly. As long as I don't get someone who would "let" me (insert heavy sarcasm here) do the project all by myself or someone as dumb as a doorknob. "And Greg Sanders."_

_I looked up at my partner, seeing a look of confusion on his face. I'm not surprised that he doesn't know who I am. Most people don't. Even those that do only vaguely remember my name and how I look like. And that's just the teachers. I'm pretty sure there are only about three people in my grade who know me, and they usually ignore me when they pass me in the hallway._

_I, however, know everybody. Well, almost everybody. I might be considered unpopular but I know people. They just don't necessarily have to know me._

_When he told us to move to sit with our partners to discuss the project, I sighed, gathering up my stuff. He definitely won't be moving to where I'm sitting, since he probably didn't even know I existed._

_I stopped in front of his table and he looked at me, raising an eyebrow. God, I hope he isn't one of those jerks._

"_I'm Delia Grace," I muttered, locking my gaze with his for moment before looking away again, tucking my hair behind my ear._

"_Oh."_

_I looked up at him, seeing an emotion flicker across his face for a second before disappearing. It was so fast, I don't really know what emotion it was. Was it disappointment, disgust? It could even be recognition, but I doubt it._

"_Er, sit down," he said, pushing his books away from the chair next to him so I could sit down. I shuffled into the seat, putting my backpack onto the table._

"_So," I said, turning to him. "What do you want to do?"_

"_What?" he asked, looking at me blankly._

_I sighed, mentally giving an eyeroll. _Of course_, I thought. _I get one of those dumb as a doorknob kids. I'd almost wish for a partner that would push all the work to me. At least I'm guaranteed a good grade.

"_For the project," I said slowly, as if I was speaking to a small child. "What do you want to do first?"_

_He blinked. "Well, since we're going to be working on it for a while, how about we get to know each other first?"_

_I looked at him strangely. I couldn't help it. He was pretty much the only person who wanted to get to know me. At home, I was an outcast and at school, I was practically invisible girl._

"_Why?" I asked, suspicious of him._

_He blinked at me again. "Er, it wouldn't be so awkward to be working together then, 'cause we're going to be working on this project for a month."_

"_Okay… I'm Delia Grace, but you can call me Dee," I said, holding out my hand._

"_I'm Greg Sanders. Just Greg," he replied, taking my hand._

"_Okay then, Just Greg," I joked, causing him to smile. "Now, what do you want to know?"_

_*flashback*_

So, yeah. That's how our friendship started. It started with a project and a boy trying to get to know the girl.

Wow, it's almost fairytale-like when I put it that way.

Anyway, my mom had called me. She was drunk, as usual, and started ragging on my job and on me, in particular. She called me some pretty harsh things that shouldn't ever be written down and left me feeling like a child again. Weak, useless and vulnerable.

Ugh, the last thing I wanted a flashback of was of _that_ part of my childhood.

So, she called and I want to cry. I would, except for the fact that Greg is here and I don't want him to see me cry. This wouldn't be the first time he would see me cry, but I still don't like crying in front of people.

"Oh, Dee…"

I turned away from him. I didn't want him to see the tears that were threatening to fall.

He came up next to me anyway and held me close, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I couldn't hold it back then. The first tear slipped out, and then the next, until I was clutching onto Greg for dear life, sobbing my heart out.

He didn't walk away or rub your back awkwardly like you would expect any other male to do when they see a female bawling their eyes out. Instead, he just held me close, telling me everything I needed to hear.

Why is it that he can see through my mask and my thoughts, but not through my heart?

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**First thought when I wake up is, "My god, he's beautiful"**_

I blinked my eyes open, stretching my back out like a cat. I turned over, almost whacking Greg in the face. My fingers brushed his face and he murmured something inaudible before pulling me close.

I know what you're thinking. Get your minds out of the gutter, people!

We still have sleepovers sometimes, okay? Yes, my clothes are on and no, he's not naked.

I turned around in his grip and couldn't help but think, "My god, he's beautiful."

He looked so innocent in his sleep, which is a lot more than I can say in real life. I mean, the only reason I ever got detentions back in high school was because of him.

I'm not saying I only get in trouble because of Greg… only that I got detentions because of him. Except for that one time. But I swear! I didn't mean to hit Miss Garcia with the meatball sub! I was aiming it at one of the cheerleaders. It wasn't because she's the head teacher for the cheerleaders or anything. Really!

… I can't believe I can still remember that.

_**So I put on my makeup and pray for a miracle**_

I wiggled out of his arms reluctantly. Unlike him, I actually need to put more effort in the way I look.

Picking up my towel and my underwear, I made my way to my bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped in, letting myself get used to the temperature of the water. I quickly finished my shower, hoping I left enough hot water for Greg to use. He gets cranky when he doesn't get coffee and a hot shower.

You call it slightly bratty, I call it just plain bratty. But, he's my best friend, and I've told him that countless of times before anyways.

After putting on my underwear, I wrapped myself in my towel and made my way back to my bedroom. I crept in, trying not to wake Greg up.

Naturally, I tripped over something and was sent to the ground cursing under my breath. Greg just stirred a little.

"My hero," I said wryly, rolling my eyes and pushing myself off the floor.

Looking into my closet, I closed my eyes and grab the first thing my hands feel. I know it's a weird way to pick out clothes, but at least I have clean clothes in my closet. Bringing out my hands, I open my eyes to see what I got.

Hmm… a button shirt and a tank top with a big treble clef on it. That'll work.

Fishing around my closet, I looked for a bottom. I can't exactly go to work in two shirts and my panties, now can I?

"Aha," I said, pulling out something. I looked at it for a moment.

It was a denim skirt that barely reached mid thigh.

… Hold the phone. I have a skirt?

Normally, it wouldn't be a surprise if a girl finds a skirt in her closet. However, I know for a fact that I don't own a skirt. At least, I never bought one.

I stared at it weirdly for a moment. How the heck did… Catherine. Of course. She might have given it to me. I shrugged and threw it over my shoulder.

Sticking my hand in, I fished around for something else and pulled out a pair of skinny jeans.

"You still pick your clothes the same way?"

I turned around, seeing Greg rub his eye and try to flatten his hair. I'll admit that my heart skipped a beat or two.

"Always have, always will," I said, grinning at him and ignored my racing heart. "You know where my shower is and your clothes are… somewhere around." I waved my hand around my room.

I tossed him his towel and he made his way to the bathroom. We stay at each others' places often enough that we both have a couple changes of clothes and our own toiletries at each of our places. I know it's more of a girl thing, but Greg was pretty much my only friend until I joined the crime lab.

Moving to my dresser, I started applying my eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss.

Somehow, I found myself praying for a miracle.

_**Yes, I could tell you his favorite colour's green**_

When he came out of my bedroom, fully dressed, I was sitting in my kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee. I looked over and smiled, seeing the shirt he was wearing.

"Hey, you found it," I said. He was wearing a green shirt that I was pretty sure he left at my place. I was right!

"Yeah," he said, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. "You know me and green."

"I know. Your favorite colour."

_**/*\/*\/*\**_

_**He loves to argue oh and it kills me  
>His sister's beautiful he has his father's eyes<br>And if you asked me if I love him  
>If you ask me if I love him, I'd lie<strong>_

"You're avoiding me."

I stopped in my tracks and looked up the case file I was studying. Well, I was, that's true. I just couldn't keep getting my heart broken by the same man that kept healing it together too.

"I'm not," I tried to say convincingly, but by the way he raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, he didn't believe me.

"Really," he drawled sarcastically.

I was quiet for a moment before I tried to brush past him, saying, "I have to go, Greg. I told Warrick that I'd tell him any recent finds."

He grabbed my arm. "You're avoiding me. Again."

I tried to pry his fingers off my arm. "Look, Greg, I _really_ have to get this to –"

"It can wait for a few moments."

"Actually," I said through gritted teeth, keeping a tight rein on my temper. "It can't. In case you've forgotten, I'm trying to solve a murder. That's what we're paid to do. Now, if you'll excuse me –"

"In case _you've_ forgotten," he cut in. "I know you inside out, Delia Artemis Grace, and I think I know when my own _best friend_ is avoiding me!"

Ugh. He pulled out the full name card.

"Listen, can't we talk about it after work?" I pleaded. I didn't only want to get away from him, but I really did need to get the case file to Warrick. Just… not _right_ at this moment. But still.

"No, because I know you and the moment you clock out, you'll get out of here so fast I wouldn't be able to talk to you."

I couldn't really say anything to that. It's true. "Could we at least talk somewhere a little more private?" I asked, seeing Hodges peeking out from the DNA lab and even Wendy looking over at us.

"Since when did _you_ care what other people thought?" he shot at me.

"Since when _didn't you_?" I retorted.

"Since you decided that you were too good to talk to me!"

I recoiled, as if I had been slapped. "W-what?"

He ran a hand through his hair and I bit my lip, resisting the urge to run _my_ hands through his hair to neaten it. "You heard me. It's like – it's like I'm not worth even a second of your time anymore. You – you don't even look my way anymore."

I turned away, not wanting to look at his face – to see the pain that I didn't think I was capable of putting on that handsome face.

"You see what I mean?" he said softly. He took my chin in his hand and pulled it toward him slowly, gently. "I miss you, Dee."

"I'm sorry, it's just –" I cut myself off, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Looking back down at the case file, I pulled my chin away. "I really have to get this to Warrick. I-I have to go. I'm sorry."

Without another word, I brushed past him and walked away. When I was sure I was alone, I leaned against the closest wall. I stayed there for a while, trying to calm myself down. When I was calm, I made my way to the break room, where Warrick said he would be.

"Hey Warrick," I greeted, smiling tiredly at him. "Here are the results you wanted."

He took them from me, not even glancing at it. He was staring intently at me. I shifted my weight.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I blinked at him, not really expecting that.

"Er, yeah," I replied. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

I winced slightly. I sounded so timid to my own ears.

Warrick looked at me, raising an eyebrow. He crossed his arms and I shifted a little.

"What's really going on, squirt?" he asked.

I didn't even have any energy to scowl at the stupid nickname he and Nick gave me. I looked down at my sneakers, shuffling them a little. I felt like a teenager again. Blech.

"If you'll excuse me," I finally said, after a heavy silence. "I have some paperwork to finish."

I turned to leave, but Warrick's voice stopped me. "Don't walk away from me like you walked away from Greg."

I flinched and turned back toward him. "How'd you know?"

"Hodges," he replied and I rolled my eyes. I swear that man gossips like an old woman.

"So?" he insisted.

I grimaced. "I don't wanna talk about it, Rick."

"You're gonna have to talk about it some time, Dee," he said, pulling me over to the table and sitting me down. He sat across from me and braced his forearm on the table, leaning on it slightly.

"I know," I sighed, running my fingers through my disheveled hair. I grimaced as my hand got caught in the knots in my hair.

"So, you do like Greg right?" he asked suddenly. I blinked at him for a moment.

"No, I do n– is it that obvious?" I said, seeing him stare at me in disbelief.

"Dee, you're working with crime scene investigators. It's obvious to most of us."

I put my head on the table. "Does _he_ know?" I asked, my voice slightly muffled.

"I don't think so."

"… I still don't wanna talk about it."

"I know," he sighed. "At least you finally admitted it to someone."

"Mm…" I hummed. Then, I stood up, slapping my hands on the table. "Well, if you don't need me for anything else, I have to go."

I walked out of the room and sighed. I could tell Greg I loved him and, on the off chance that he feels the same way (doubtful, very doubtful, though. He likes Sara, remember?), we could have our happily ever after, _or_ I could just keep it to myself and never tell him and most likely die of a broken heart.

Life is never easy, is it?

_**-8-8-8-8-8-**_

_**This is the longest songfic I have **_**ever**_** written. I hope ya'll like it though. Review please! Tell me if you guys would like to see more of Delia. I definitely enjoyed writing about her.**_

_**~Alex**_


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